


I've Got You

by armadil_Lo



Series: RvB Angst War [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, I don't even know how to tag this really, M/M, RvB Angst War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6568960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armadil_Lo/pseuds/armadil_Lo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nightmares are just as awful and twisted as his reality now. And it's every day and every night and there's no easing up, there's no breaks, there's no improvement. Whatever Epsilon did, it wasn't gentle. It was destroying.</p>
<p>It has destroyed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for the RvB Angst War: "I've got you. I've got you." BANG "I got you." 
> 
> From ashleystlawrence on tumblr
> 
> It may not have been exactly what you were thinking but it's still angsty all the same.
> 
> Enjoy everyone!

Sometimes... Sometimes things reach a point where they just can't get better.

David Washington almost stopped believing that at some point. Being with the Reds and Blues opened his eyes to a whole new world. And maybe that was his new beginning, maybe that was his getting better. But he should've remembered that not everybody receives that. Not even the people who deserve it the most. 

Standing now at the doorway of Tucker's room for the one hundred and seventy fourth day in a row, he wishes things were different. But Project Freelancer will always come back to haunt him. Project Freelancer took so much from Wash - and just keeps on taking and taking when he least expects it.

Epsilon may have tried to kill himself in Wash's head, but he shattered himself in Tucker's. Fragments of fragments left like grenades in the other man's fragile mind, shards embedding themselves into all corners of subconsciousness and memories. Dead voices screaming and deafening but unheard by everyone else, flashbacks and flashforwards and flashes of colour behind haunted eyes. The nightmares are just as awful and twisted as his reality now. And it's every day and every night and there's no easing up, there's no breaks, there's no improvement. Whatever Epsilon did, it wasn't gentle. It was destroying. It has destroyed him.

Tucker lives in a psych ward now.

Wash watches the man sleeping. He doesn't even look peaceful - he's frowning and twitching. He knows what comes next, and then what comes after that, and it fills Wash with dread. He wishes he could say that he was used to this. That he was able to do everything he could to help Tucker. But it's hard and guilt has been creeping in for a long time now. That's part of the reason why he's brought a present with him today. Nurses don't even bother to check his pockets anymore, they’re more than used to seeing him daily, they know how dedicated he is to Tucker. The object weighing down his pocket only proves his love. He hopes it will somehow make things better.

But as soon as Wash takes a few steps into the room and closes the door behind him, Tucker's eyes shoot open and he bolts upright in the bed. Wash braces himself.

The screaming starts.

He hurries over to the tortured man and sits beside him, placing his hands firmly on both shoulders. Tucker looks up at him with his mouth agape and spewing pained noises, but his eyes don't really see anything. They don't see Wash. He turns away and grabs a hold of his head in both hands, starting to curl inward and rock. Tucker still screams as Wash pries his hands from his head and positions himself on the bed behind the man, hugging his chest tightly and pinning his arms down. Wash chants _"I've got you, I've got you, you’re fine Tucker, you’re safe, I've got you"_ into his back as a futile attempt to be heard over Tucker's yells and sobs and the other voices belonging to images nobody else can see. Tucker begins to lash out and jerk wildly, desperately trying to break free from the hold Wash has. _"Tucker, I've got you, calm down, please, I love you, I've got you, I've got you..."_ All he gets in return is indistinguishable noises and an elbow to the gut.

He holds Tucker down for what feels like the thousandth time and lets the darker skinned man's tears drip onto his arms. Lets himself be the punching bag. And Wash hates it. Hates this daily torture that Tucker is living with, not even finding peace in his sleep. Hates that nothing is working, hates that doctors have told him time and time again that there's nothing to be done for the mental state of his boyfriend, hates that Project Freelancer can take everyone from him like this, hates that Tucker deserves better and can never get it.

_"I've got you, Tucker. It's me, Wash, it's just me. I've got you, I promise."_

It takes almost half an hour for Tucker's movements to show some signs of lethargy. And when Tucker starts to tire, Wash knows objectively that now is the time.

Wash removes the present from his pocket and gently presses it against the back of Tucker's shaved head in an attempt to calm him. The distressed man stops trashing almost instantly. But Tucker, his Tucker, never used to be so stiff in his arms. His Tucker can never come back.

Wash's eyes are stinging and he squeezes them shut. Takes a deep breath. Adjusts the object against Tucker's skull. Whispers, "I've got you."

_Bang._

The gun falls from his shaking hand and clatters to the floor. Blood starts soaking through his shirt and pooling onto the sheets beneath their two bodies. Tucker falls limp.

And Wash ignores all of these things - ignores thoughts of consequences and prison walls, ignores the alarmed noises being made by people rapidly approaching the room, ignores the tears that leak from under closed eyelids.

Instead he focuses on the last moment of warmth he'll ever have pressed up against the last person left that he loves.

_"I've got you."_


End file.
